


Hearing What She Doesn't Say

by 26stars



Series: Between the Lines [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Backstory, Bahrain, Basically I am bitter about the lack of screentime these two get together because when they do..., Don't ever call me that, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Guilt, Hugs because everyone needs them, I guess this is an AU where both these characters aren't afraid to touch each other, I obviously love May's relationship with Skye but most of all I love her responsibility for her team, If you're after May&Simmons, May doesn't know how to not be responsible for everyone around her, May is always two steps ahead of her, May training Skye, Personal Demons, S.O. Melinda May, S.O./Agent relationship, Season 2 missing scenes, Season Finale, Skye's POV, Skye's childhood, Thank God they're on the same side, There is so much in this relationship, This is canon as far as I'm concerned, Why Did I Write This?, and I'm needing healing after season 2, grief and mourning, last chapter in this work, then go to chapter 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3525398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/26stars/pseuds/26stars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye's been through a lot, but May's never left her to face it alone. And Skye never has to say a word.</p><p>[Missing season 2 Skye & May moments]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have one eye in the May/Skye lens and one in the May&Skye lens...and it probably is going to show.

Skye had a bag of choice adjectives to apply to Agent Melinda May during those first few weeks she spent with on the Bus.

_Imposing._

_Icy._

_No-nonsense._

_Just-look-don’t-touch._

The collection of descriptors changed a little after Utah. Skye had to throw in words like _mysterious. Reformed. Scarred. Controlled. Protective._

After hearing about all that had happened to the woman in the past and seeing the way Agent May took care of her team, Skye wasn’t afraid to ask her for help, turn to her for guidance, or follow her lead. She got used to May’s shape stepping between her team and danger. Always putting their safety before her own, yet never overcome by all that assaulted her. Though she had seen what May’s hands could do, she wasn’t afraid of her touch anymore. Not once the woman had gripped her arm in affirmation or pulled her back from impulse.

_Clever. Clear-headed. Loyal. Brave._

Of course, everything became totally jumbled in those days around SHIELD’s demise. The question of who to trust. Who to count on.

Who to turn to.

But once the dust had settled and the fog was clearing, once the new world order was taking shape and everyone had a freshly-poured foundation to stand on again…well, that was when Skye could reconsider her understanding of Melinda May.

She has plenty of time to observe her now that May's her S.O.

_Patient. Straightforward. Wise. Dedicated._

_Perceptive._

God, is that woman perceptive.

It is perhaps the characteristic that Skye loves most: the woman’s ability to _know_ without needing to be told. She’s not sure how much of it comes from the woman’s Academy training in recon and observation and how much is purely her instinct…or whether it could be chalked up for May’s apparent aversion to verbal communication. But wherever it comes from…it’s the thing that makes all the difference.

It means that May always knows when Skye’s truly spent and when she has the energy for one more set, one more lap, or one more hour left in her. It means that none of Skye’s complaints have any sticking power at all when there’s nothing sincere behind them. It means she knows when Skye’s actually terrified and when she’s just nervous.

And it means that Skye doesn’t need to say anything when she taps gently on May’s dorm room door a few hours after they get back from the mission in Morocco where they saw Jemma in a HYDRA jacket and Skye-for the first time-pulled a trigger that eliminated a threat for good.

It’s late. She just saw Ward. He said the best and worst thing she could ever hear.

And before she has even gotten her heart rate down, she’s found herself in front of May’s door.

May is dressed down when she opens the door. Her bed is unmade and the lights in her room are off, but she takes one look at Skye and says nothing as she steps back to let her in. The door closes and seals them in darkness.

Neither says anything as May pulls back the covers of her bed and climbs back into it, turning towards the girl and lifting the blankets expectantly for her to slide beneath. Skye scoots in close to her, feeling the woman lay a protective arm across her middle, her temple brushing Skye’s shoulder.

Skye hesitatingly lays a hand on May’s arm. She knows she can’t hide her trembling. May’s voice is soft at her side.

“You just talked to Ward?”

“He said my father’s alive. And that he’s looking for me.”

May doesn’t say anything, but Skye feels her arm tighten minutely around her. She feels the slew of questions streaming between them, but May doesn't bother with any but the ultimate one.

“What do you want to do?” her S.O. whispers.

Skye can only shake her head on the pillow. “I have no idea. None. It’s a possibility I never let myself consider.”

But May knows. Her hand beneath the blanket finds Skye's and grips it tightly.

“You came here looking for your family. For where you came from. If you’re sure he’s telling you the truth, then it’s okay to want to pursue it.”

Skye squeezes her eyes shut, pinching the irrational tears out of them, her hand tightening its grip around May’s arm.

“I found my family. Remember? This information isn't the answer…I don’t even know what it is anymore. It’s an answer to a question I can’t cut off, but it’s something I don’t want discover that cancels everything else out.”

_I never counted on having anything to lose by finding my family-what if finding one means I can't keep the other?_

“It doesn’t. This family isn’t going anywhere.”

Skye feels her mouth pull against a sob and reins it in, pulls it back- but May is already pulling her in and wrapping around her, so Skye rests her head against her S.O.’s sternum, twists her fingers into the fabric of her shirt, and holds on as the tide comes in.

*

Only a few weeks later when they get back from possibly-the-most-unexpectedly-incomprehesible-night-that-has-ever-happened, Skye’s boot soles are still sticky with blood as she makes her way down the hallway from Coulson’s office to the barracks, mindless, mechanical.

_My father is a murderer._

_My Director is losing grip._

_My S.O. is disappointed._

_My friend’s cover is blown._

_My team knows I come from a monster._

_There’s a camera somewhere in my room…_

Aha. Now _there_ is something she can do something about.

Skye doesn’t have to explain herself when May arrives at her door and sees the boots abandoned outside of it, or when she comes to her room and finds Skye tearing it apart, running her hands over every possible surface in search of something unnoticed. May doesn’t say a word as she steps out of her own bloody shoes and pads in on socked feet, just reaches into the shade of the goose-neck lamp that hangs over Skye’s bed and plucks the miniscule camera from its hiding place.

“There was only one,” she says, extracting the battery and disassembling the tiny piece of technology. “You want the memory card?” She offers Skye the microSD card, which Skye snatches and throws across the room.

“You could have told me. Even if he didn’t,” she grits out as she rounds on her S.O. Skye isn’t trying that hard to not sound petty and hurt. _You could have told me about Simmons’ extraction.  About the Coulson’s carvings. About the possible trap in my bloodstream waiting to be sprung on me too._

May’s expression is passive. “Of course I could have told you. But you know why I didn’t.”

“Because you always follow protocol.” Skye hears the childishness in her voice and feels ashamed.

“Because I obey my orders.”

They stand there, staring one another down, the unspoken argument swallowed up by the fear of the unknown that they are now faced with. May sighs and steps over the mess to close Skye’s door. Skye sits slowly on the bed, and the woman comes back to her side.

“Now that you know,” May says softly as she sits near enough for their knees to bump, “I’ll need your help keeping an eye on him. I’ve been trying not to let him carve without supervision.”

Skye faces her. “So is that why you’ve been sneaking energy shots some mornings? I think there were bets being made that you two were up to something else upstairs.” The smile she tries feels like throwing a sandbag. It thuds just as awkwardly.

May’s own indulgent half-smile looks heavy, too. And Skye wishes she had something in her that could fix it. She looks away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.”

May reaches over and curls a hand gently over her shoulder. They both stare at the ground.

“Sorry you had to make that choice.”

Skye feels the lead balloon descending, the reality of everything that she now knows coming down on her like a crushing cloud of poisonous gas, yet she can’t stop breathing…

_Tell me you’re not afraid of me. Tell me that in spite of what you saw-who you know I come from…_

Her thought is cut off as May turns fully to her and puts her other hand on Skye’s other shoulder.

“There are hard choices coming. Are you prepared to make the call, should it be demanded of you?” There is concern in her eyes. There is worry. But not anger. Not repulsion. Not fear.

Skye reaches up, hangs her hands from May’s elbows. “It’s made. Whatever happens, I’m taking care of my family: this team. There’s no question about that.”

She sees a wash of relief in the slight softening of May’s eyes, and then the woman is pulling her into an embrace.

“And there’s no question that we are taking care of you. Don’t you ever second-guess that. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Skye  presses into May and clings to her until she is sure she believes it.

*

When Ward’s transport from the Playground to his senator brother doesn’t make their third rendezvous point and the driver is unreachable, Skye’s sickened. She’s angry.

But, worst of all, she’s not surprised.

She can't talk about it. Not to Coulson or Simmons, not to any of the new people that weren't there and don't _really_ understand all that Ward has done to this team. 

_But you can mine it._

She goes to the mats.

She finds her center, finds the deepest part of her she can reach on her own, and starts to move through the motions May taught her. Every time she breathes, she reaches deeper. 

_In, out. In out. This is your body. Yours alone to know. Yours alone to control._

She hears the door open but doesn't open her eyes. When two light feet pad onto the mat and take position over her shoulder, she isn't at all surprised.

_At least she indulged me with ten minutes of lonely sulking._

“It’s not sulking if you’re fighting it.”

They move together, bodies shifting in unison, neither needing to watch the other. She hears May’s leading in her head anyway. _Breathe in, breathe out. Bring it in, push it out. Everything else will follow._

Fifteen minutes of tai chi later, Skye breaks the silence.

“Are you on the team going after him?”

“Yeah.”

_Bring it in, push it out. Nothing happens to you-you set the terms here._

“How soon?”

“As soon as the plane fueled.”

Skye can’t help it. She drops the position and turns to May, not even trying to hide the chaos that immediately fills her mind again. The woman is dressed for the mission already.

“He doesn’t deserve our efforts.”

_He's not even with us and he's still dividing us._

May abandons her movements too, her hands falling to her sides as she straightens.

“Damn right,” she sighs.

_But he’s too dangerous to ignore._

Skye closes the distance between them and wraps her S.O. in a clinging hug.

“Come back safe,” she commands into May's shoulder.

_I don’t worry about you against anyone else, but he’s not anyone._

May squeezes her back briefly, then pushes Skye back by her shoulders to look her in the eyes.

“You keep him safe.”

_I'm leaving you with the one other thing I don't want to leave._

Skye nods once, gaze firm in May's. _I will._

May presses a soundless kiss against her forehead. _I will._

*


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after s02e07 "The Writing on the Wall"
> 
> When May gets back after Skye nearly lost Coulson, Skye thinks she knows what's coming.

_The worst part has always been the suspense. When you know hell is coming and there's nowhere to run._

Skye remembers the time when she was twelve and a boy in the schoolyard made a loud comment that she was a foster kid because her parents tossed her in the garbage, and she responded by cracking her knuckles against his nose. The suspended second where his nose burst with blood and her fingers rattled with pain, the moment when she looked up and saw the teacher headed their direction-that had been worse than any moment following it.

She remembers the time when she was thirteen and accidentally broke a crystal decanter that belonged to her foster parents. Granted, her fingers were more than a little clumsy, what with the third of the alcohol inside it already in her system. She had been too inebriated to trust herself to safely clean the mess up, but not drunk enough to think that nobody would notice anything wrong. In the end, she had hauled herself into the corner and waited for sobriety or her returning parents-whichever got there first.

And, perhaps the most similar to this situation, she remembers the time when she was seven and the current foster mother left her in front of the TV with the baby next to Skye on the couch, telling her to make sure he didn’t crawl into any trouble while she went out to get the mail. It only took a few seconds of distraction for the baby to roll off the sofa. His scream started the second the front door was opening again. She hadn’t known whether to apologize or to run in terror from the mother, so Skye had simply grabbed the baby, wrapped him in her arms so that they were mutual shields, and started to sob too.

Forty-five minutes into their morning drill, May still hasn’t said a word about the mayhem of the day before. Hasn’t scolded her for her carelessness, cut her down with a guilt trip, or even given her extra push-ups in silent penance. Instead, everything has been business as usual for morning drill-jog, stretch, run, push, jump. Now May is leading her through combat drills in the training room, her commands and critiques as calm as always, betraying nothing.

Skye isn’t optimistic enough to think May has forgotten what Skye’s done. She knows it’s got to come sooner or later.

And whatever’s coming, she knows she deserves it.

“Ten more and then water down,” May says from behind the punching bag, her eyes active as she watches Skye’s form. “Keep the front elbow up. Good. Three more-two-one. Okay. Good job.”

 As Skye moves off the spring floor towards her bag, she feels her shoulders only tightening.

“Ditch the sweatshirt-sparring's next.”

 _This is it._  Skye thinks as she peels off her outer layer and rolls her shoulders in the cold basement air. This _has to be it._

They start off easy, moving through the basic blocks and motions and watching Skye’s footwork as they move around each other. By the time the swinging and kicking starts, Skye feels like a piano string pulled past its limit. It would be a mercy if it would just snap.

And then it does.

“Godammit, Skye, I can't do another hour with you like this.” May suddenly says exasperatedly, dropping both fists and straightening, abandoning her stance entirely. "Are you waiting for me punish you for yesterday? Because that's not going to happen. _"_ Her tone is verging on flippant, but her eyes are soft and concerned.

Startled, Skye feels her fists falling too. “What are talking abou-”

May's tone is gentler as she interrupts. “Skye, I don’t do ‘I told you so’s’. What’s done is done. You’ve obviously punished yourself enough for what happened. What good would it do either of us for me to drag out the guilt?” 

“I’m sorry,” Skye says, dropping her gaze to the floor. “You asked me to do one thing, and I almost failed.”

_You asked me to take care of the person you love. Keep him out of trouble. Keep him safe. And I didn't._

She hears May sigh, then sees the woman’s feet step in closer to her. She feels May’s hand curl around her bicep, strong and reassuring.

“Skye, I know we still have a long way to go with each other, but I never meant for you to think me sadistic. Did you really expect me to punish you for listening to your Director, who forced you to choose between his orders and mine? If anyone’s responsible, it’s him.”

“You’re not mad?” Skye asks, raising her gaze again to May’s.

The woman huffs out a small laugh as she shakes her head. “Not at _you_. Coulson, on the other hand, has already gotten an earful from me. Like I said-what’s the point of dragging things out?”

Skye finds herself smiling, scuffing her foot embarrassedly against the floor.

“So did you guys kiss and make up yet?”

May’s hand on her arm turns strong and she easily trips Skye with a toe behind the ankle as she knocks her to the ground.

“Careful,” May says from above her, but she is smiling. “I can still make this morning miserable for you if you want me to.”

Instead of responding with a counterattack like May probably expects her to, Skye just sits up and grins at her.

“See, this is why we need you to always be here.”

 _This is why_ I _need you to always be here._

Something in those words seems to snag on May, because her smile flickers a little.

“My job is to make you not need me, remember?” And yet even as she says it, she is offering Skye a hand up.

Skye takes it, but then throws herself back, kicking a leg up against May’s stomach and flipping the woman forward over Skye’s head. May thuds to the floor behind her, and Skye quickly rolls over, pressing her palms to the floor in preparation for her next move. May’s eyes are bright as she rolls out of the flip and comes up in the ready-spring position, her expression proud.

"Good flip-now what do you do?"

Skye doesn't move yet-she needs to make sure May hears her perfectly.

“I’m glad you’re here, May.”

_Glad you’re back._

_Glad you’re safe._

_Glad you’re ours._

May doesn't say a word as she lunges at her, but Skye still sees the woman's small smile.

_Me too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote seven-year-old Skye's story from my own experience. When I accidentally let my baby brother roll off the sofa and hurt himself, I was so scared that I had done something unforgivable that after my brother stopped crying I was still sobbing and asked my dad if he still loved me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Ward boards the Bus to fetch Raina and Skye, May does all the talking.
> 
> Set in season 2 ep 9

Considering this team’s history, Skye tells herself she shouldn’t really be surprised when flashing red icon covers all the screens in the Bus and their well-laid plan for Puerto Rico is instantly blown to bits.

_Right on time, HYDRA._

“SHIELD 616,” an automated voice announces through their speaker system. “Do not engage your weapons, or you will be shot out of the sky. Uncloak and prepare to be boarded.”

And as their eyes meet across the teletable, neither needs to say it, but May does anyway.

“Whitehall.”

“There’s quinjets on both sides,” Hunter calls from the window of the fuselage.

Skye wants to ask how in the world they’re getting out of this one when there is everything to lose and nothing to gain, but May already has her plan set even as she strides through the plane and picks up and loads her gun. “I’m not giving up the lives of everyone on this plane for Raina. She’s not worth it.”

“HYDRA already has the obelisk,” Skye finds herself saying out loud as she grabs her own gun and follows May towards the stairwell to the upper deck. “If they have Raina too-”

“We stil have the edge. Coulson’s already on site. HYDRA’s not.”

“How the hell did they find us? We were cloaked!” Trip says, reaching the stairwell at the same time as Skye and May.

A cool voice speaks from the top of the stairs. “Raina’s tracker.”

All the air in Skye’s lungs sublimes to ice. She feels her hand tighten unnecessarily around her gun as she brings it level with the boots tramping down the stairs, and she feels the temperature of the room drop ten degrees as the rest of Grant Ward emerges from above. She doesn’t glance at May, but she is comforted by the sight of the woman’s gun in her periphery.

Ward looks disgustingly confident as he reaches their level and faces the two women, totally ignoring Trip and Hunter.

“… Lower your weapons. Anyone shoots, the plane goes down-we all die.”

“Maybe it’s worth it,” May bites out next to Skye.

 “Let’s not get carried away just yet,” Hunter reminds her lightly from his position behind Ward.

“You gave us Bakshi and now you’re back with HYDRA?” Skye sneers. “Pick a side, Ward.”

He has the nerve to smile.

“Oh I have, don’t worry.” He turns back to Raina. “Let’s go.”

The woman doesn’t try to hide her smug smile. “With pleasure.” She moves towards the stairs.

Ward glances back to Skye.

“You too.”

May’s eyes dart to hers at the same moment that Skye glances at her S.O. May looks as confused as her.

_What?_

“What?”

Ward tosses her another cold smile. “I made you a promise Skye. I’m here to keep it. You’re coming with me.”

May shifts forward, the all-too-familiar motion of stepping between Skye and danger.

“The hell she is. She’s not going anywhere.”

_She belongs right here. She belongs to me, not you. Never you._

If Skye’s heart were able to do anything other than stutter out a manageable beat, it might have swelled with gratitude. Even with certain death, May doesn’t even consider it an option to give Skye up. But though Skye might doubt Ward’s intentions, but she certainly doesn’t doubt HYDRA’s threat.

“May,” Skye starts, looking over at the woman.

“She comes or the deals off,” Ward says calmly.

The disgust is evident in May’s tone. “Shut up.”

_You’ve said more than I should ever have let you say._

And Skye realizes that she herself has to make this call. “May, if I don’t go with him, they’ll blow this plane to pieces.”

“They’re HYDRA. They’ll do it anyway!” Trip reminds her.

May’s eyes never leave Ward. “Skye, you _can’t_ trust him.”

“Yes you can, Skye. Look at me.”

The veins in May’s arms are standing out now, her voice dripping with contempt as she shifts marginally closer to Ward, further ahead of Skye. “ _Don’t. talk to her.”_

Ward doesn’t even have the grace to look respectful. “Skye I give you my word, you come with me, we won’t fire a single shot. Everyone gets out alive.”

“Good one. Is that what you told my brother before you killed him?”

And as Billy distracts Ward, Skye lowers her gun and turns fully towards May.

“Skye…” May starts, finally looking over at her. She already knows. The tiny tells around her eyes, the barely perceptible change in her tone, are almost enough to change Skye’s mind. “…you can’t.”

_You can’t do this to yourself. He might be leading you into danger. You might not get to come back._

_You can’t do that to me._

“There’s no other way you know that.”

_This isn’t me trusting him. This is me giving everyone else a chance. If you don’t believe him, at least believe me._

“Whatever happens I can handle myself.”

_Thanks to you._

May nods slowly, and though it’s not betrayal in May’s eyes, there is pain.

As Skye climbs the stairs to the upper deck, her gun in Ward’s pocket and her tablet under her arm, she risks a final look at May as her team recedes beneath her.

_Take care of them._

May nods once.

_Take care of yourself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene was brutal for me. All three of these characters have such a complicated history, and I NEEDED there to be more to this scene. In some ways, it was the last innocent scene these two got.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Skye gets out of quarantine, there are some things that need to be said but no one is ready to talk about.
> 
> Set in/after s02e11.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a bit of a shift from other chapters (and quite a bit longer), but I got going and didn't want to stop. While this is still very much a Skye&May fic, I wanted to pull back and remember that the fallout of 2.10 didn't happen in a vacuum-it affected everyone and everything.

Growing up, Skye only ever went to one funeral.

She was eight, and he was a cousin, or at least, a cousin of her foster sister. His death had been sudden-a boating accident on a family vacation. A bumped head and a few too many seconds breathing water, and he was gone. Just like that.

It was her first lesson on death.

She remembers sitting in a church with the rest of the family with whom she would never share blood, itching in a borrowed black dress and trying to think about anything besides the way her toes were aching in the too-small shoes. She remembers warm flowers and large photographs of a bright-eyed blonde kid flanking a closed, shiny cold coffin, one that would have suited a girl her size well. There were words of condolence and hope spoken by a stranger to a room full of people connected only by their acquaintance with the dead. There were comforting touches exchanged by family members with everyone but her.

She was an asterisk. Present but inconsequential. Scenery, not player.

Even the corpse got more attention than she did.

She remembers the walk-by with the rest of the family at the end of the service. Remembers being barely tall enough to peer into the coffin on its platform and see the plasticized face of a boy she would never know, would never miss, yet would never be able to forget. He was wearing makeup that returned the color to his skin-such a strange thing to remember, but it struck her as odd- _why try to make a dead person look_ less _dead_?

Three steps and then she was past the body, following her latest temporary family as they congregated at the front with their permanent one to receive condolences from everyone else. Skye knew her place and stood behind them all, effectively shielded from everyone’s gaze.

She had waited there in the irritating poly-velvet outfit, counting the pairs of feet she could see through her foster mother’s legs, adding up the mourners and thinking that it was too bad that the boy wasn’t there to see how many people loved him, or at least cared enough to come and remember him.

And then she had wondered skeptically if anyone from her short eight years would make an appearance at her funeral if it had come tomorrow. Even at that age, she was already certain she would not be mourned. Likely, her death would not even be noticed.

She still would not wish that feeling on anyone, old or young.

It was not her last lesson on death, but it was her last funeral.

Until now.

It looks different this time. There’s no body. No family. No pictures. No flowers.

There will be no burial.

They’re all underground already.

Skye is sunk into the sofa between Simmons and Fitz. Hunter is sprawled on the futon not far from Bobbi and May. Whether by choice or coincidence, they are all wearing black.

No one needs to say it. Everyone already knows what this is as they pass around drinks and stories, shaking in just enough laughter to hold back the pain.

This is his wake. This is his memorial service.

This is the best they can do.

“Remember that one time…”

“Did he ever tell you about…”

“My favorite story is that time when…”

“Do you remember…”

The silence echoes the unspoken words in the gaps when the laughter dies out.

_Never again._

_Not anymore._

_The last time._

_Gone._

“We’re gonna laugh a lot less, that’s for sure.”

At one point, Simmons reaches over and clasps Skye’s bandaged hand gently, and Skye nearly pulls back, afraid the scientist will feel the buzzing beneath her skin, afraid she’ll catch on to Fitz’s forgery. Nothing seems amiss in Simmons’s expression, however, as she stares at nothing ahead of her and sighs heavily, her thumb grazing apologetically over the wound on Skye’s hand. So Skye leans into her because she can, because Simmons still has no idea of the elephant sitting between her and Fitz, because at this moment they both need the same thing and are both willing to give it to one another.

Someone to lean on. Someone to remind them that they’re not alone.

Neither of them move when Bobbi stands, crushes her empty can against the counter, and says good night, or when Hunter leaves only a few minutes later (could he be _any_ more obvious?). Mack has already disappeared, still seeming uncomfortable around everyone else. Eventually, Fitz seems to notice he’s the only boy left and reluctantly stands, throwing a single questioning glance at Skye, who only offers a sad smile in return. She can’t risk more when May’s in the room.

Then it’s just the three of them, alone with the ghosts. Simmons is still and quiet beside her, and Skye stares across the room at May, remembering how only three days ago she walked away from the woman and onto a HYDRA quinjet with Grant Ward. Since then she’s met her father, touched an Obelisk, killed a few men, shot a traitor, threatened to kill her father, turned to stone, watched her friend crumble to pieces, and survived an earthquake that she knows now that she herself caused.

_Some week._

May looks up at her, and Skye sees a look in her eyes that could only be described as weariness. The woman sighs, and it seems to echo through the whole room.

_Some year._

May stands then, and Skye half-expects her to leave too, but instead she goes to the kitchen and rifles through the bottles in the cupboards. When she comes back, she hands them each a half-full glass of something stronger than beer before sinking into the sofa on Skye’s other side. Simmons sits up and withdraws her hand, tucking herself back into the corner of the sofa with her legs drawn to her chest. She downs her drink quickly, but Skye just spins her glass gently on her knee with her uninjured hand. She’s numb enough already. Eventually, she sets it on the table, unsipped.

The silence of midnight has settled in the base before Simmons finally breaks it.

“Does it get easier?”

It’s barely phrased like a question, and at first, Skye thinks Simmons is talking to her. It’s hard to tell, since she’s just staring down into her empty glass, her pale hands gripping it like she’s expecting it to be snatched away.

But May knows who the question was really for.

“It’s not supposed to,” she says softly from Skye’s other side.

Easier _means it matters less each time._ Easier _means that you’ve done this so many times that the number is too high to count-a drop in an overflowing bucket._ Easier _means you’ve shut yourself off from the potential for it to hurt anymore._

“What happens when the number gets too big?” Skye didn’t mean to say it outloud, but once she hears herself, she looks over at May, waiting for an answer. “What happens when you can’t tell the difference between before and after a loss anymore?”

May stares at her own patch of nothing as she answers.

“That’s your motivation-to never let that happen. Each time that number grows, you have to decide if it’s worth it to keep doing this. And no matter how many times you’ve had that conversation with yourself, the next number will make you question your choice all over again. It all comes down for your reason to be here. If the benefit outweighs the cost, then the answer is obvious. But that’s personal. Everyone has their own reasons to keep going in spite of-or sometimes because of-the number.”

“You seem like you’re holding it together better than the rest of us,” Simmons says a little loudly, staring over at May, seemingly emboldened by the alcohol. 

Skye can hear the pointed finger.

_Just how high is your number?_

May looks over at her, looking both surprised and a little stung. “I may not have shed a tear when Skye was an inch from death with two bullets in her abdomen, but I did break a man’s nose. We all deal with things differently.”

_You don’t have to assume the worst in me._

Simmons looks back down at her glass, obviously ashamed. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair of me to say.”

“This is my fault, remember?” Skye suddenly chokes out, looking away from both of them. “So don’t you two get upset at each other-you want to be mad at someone, get mad at me. I went down there to stop Raina and I failed-I could have just shot her and taken the crystals and run away, but I didn’t-and then Trip came in to get me out and now he’s dead and it’s because of me-”

“Maybe,” May says quietly.

And Skye isn’t sure what she wanted her S.O. to say, but she sure wasn’t expecting this. As she looks over at the woman, May meets her eyes, gaze gentle even though she maintains the space between them.

“Maybe so. Maybe that’s what happened. Maybe that’s why it happened. So what do you do? You live with it. You carry it. You get to know it. And you learn from it. This is part of the story now. Part of your story.”

And Skye hears the hint at the Bahrain history that she’s still never heard, and she knows that May already bears a scar from the same blade that’s left Skye gasping on the ground.

Blood on her hands. Figuratively and literally.

“I just-” Simmons starts again, pursing her lips as she directs her gaze upward. Skye knows that trick. She’s used it enough times herself. “We’ve already come through so much. Each of us teetered on that edge and got pulled back from it. I guess I thought…”

_That maybe this family would always be the exception?_

_Get that thought out of your head, Simmons. It never ends well._

And then Skye sees the girl’s face crumple like paper, her head dropping to hide the tears behind her occupied hands. She feels May moving even as Skye reaches to pull the empty glass away from Simmons and set it aside. And as Simmons reaches almost blindly for someone, they accept her together.

Skye strokes her back gently as the woman falls apart against her, feels May reach over and lay a gentle hand on Simmons’ shoulder. Fighting her own tears, Skye leans back just enough to feel May’s body against hers, her immovable presence warm and reassuring.

She remembers the last funeral and her detachment from it, the ease with which she could walk in and walk out, the total absence of her own pain or tears.

It looks different this time.

_This is the other side of the coin- having a family to love means having a family to lose._

It’s only after a few minutes of relative silence when Simmons’ weight settles heavily against Skye that she realizes the scientist has actually fallen asleep slumped against her shoulder, pressing her back against May, who leans a little into her, an equal and opposite force. Skye wonders if any of them have slept properly since Puerto Rico.

“Are you going to get some sleep?” she eventually murmurs, glancing over at May.

_You must be tired._

The woman nods once. “When you do too.”

_When my work is done._

“Well, grab a blanket then, because I’m not going to wake her up.”

“You don’t have to.”

And before Skye realizes what she’s doing, May has unfolded herself and gently detangled Simmons’ arms from Skye’s waist, standing and lifting the woman into her arms. Skye is both startled and impressed-Simmons may be thin but she’s certainly still bigger than May. The girl mumbles something vaguely protestant but doesn’t wake up, simply drawing her arms into herself and burrowing against May’s body. It seems like the ‘something stronger’ was more than strong enough.

“Come on then,” May says quietly, moving off in the direction of the barracks.

Skye stands and follows, but not before noticing her own glass sitting next to May’s on the sofa’s armrest, also empty.

They get Simmons to her room and into bed, get her shoes off, fold her beneath the covers, and turn out the light. Skye briefly contemplates curling up next to her, but she has a feeling she’d better spend this night alone. After all, the two of them have spent the last three days with glass between them. So instead, she follows May back into the hall, where the woman leads her slowly to her own door.

“She’ll feel better in the morning,” May offers as Skye stuffs her hands into her pockets and stares at the floor as they walk. “Distance is usually the best shield, whether it’s geographic or chronologic.”

_And that’s why Coulson was pulling me out of Administration and not Operations._

“ _Does it_ get any easier, May?” she asks, stopping in the middle of the hallway and turning to face the woman.

May hangs her hands in her pockets and looks at her steadily, soberly.

“Which part?”

_To lose a teammate? Or to live with yourself for causing it?_

And Skye is sure she knows. Maybe not the details, but she knows Skye’s holding back, keeping the last details to herself. She knows there’s more that she won’t say.

Skye feels her composure cracking, feels the numbness receding like the tide from the shore, pulling back and exposing the deadly rocks beneath. She’s afraid to let it all in though, afraid to let her emotions fill her up, afraid to discover what it makes her do when they overflow…

But before Skye can take a single step away, put a safe distance between her and anyone else, May moves into her space, wrapping her arms around Skye in a secure, decisive embrace.

“I didn’t forget.”

She remembers her words from earlier- _I think I just need a hug._

That’s all it takes to push Skye over the edge.

Skye presses her mouth against May’s shoulder to muffle the sounds as the pain breaks through, whimpering against the fabric of the woman’s flight jacket. They’re still standing in the middle of the hallway, when seems to only amplify the sound of her grief as the tears are wrung out, twist after twist. May is patient, one hand dragging gently over her back as Skye feels grief and fear ripping down the walls inside of her until there’s little strength in her left to even stand.

Even so, May holds her tight, the upright presence supporting her, just like before.

Whatever she knows or thinks she knows, it’s not scaring her off. She’s still here. Still strong. Still unshakeable.

 _Not leaving-_ the language kids understand best.

Eventually, after god-knows-how-long, Skye again feels like she can hold herself up.

“Sorry, she says automatically, sniffling and wiping her eyes when she draws back. May keeps one hand against her side, her gaze serious as she makes Skye look at her.

“Never apologize for hurting. You’re not weak just because your heart feels heavy. All it shows is that this matters.”

May keeps a gentle hand against Skye as she walks her to her room, stands quietly at the door as Skye opens it and moves inside.

“Thanks for being here, May,” she says as she turns and smiles tiredly back from the other side of the threshold.

_Thanks for not leaving._

_Thanks for holding us up._

May’s voice is soft and sincere as she puts a doorstop hand on the doorframe and asks, “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

_Don’t be afraid._

But right now, Skye just wants to sleep.

“Not tonight.”

_Not yet._

May nods once, unsurprised. “Okay.” She withdraws her hand.

_When you’re ready._

Skye steps back into the doorway, hugs the woman one more time, feels May hugging back until it almost feels like her broken pieces are sticking back together. “Thank you.”

_Thank you for understanding._

_Thank you for not leaving._

_Thank you for caring this much._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've said it before in notes on another fic, but I'll say it again: I never bought the 'only Fitz knows' line. The way May acted in ep12 convinced me that she'd known the whole time.
> 
> Although I'm obviously crazy about Melinda May, I've read some amazing meta on tumblr about Simmons (if you wrote some of it, then THANK YOU), and I agree that she's also not been given her due by the writers this season. She's been through her own wringer of trauma after trauma since the beginning of season 1, and she's not used to pain the way May and Skye may already have been. I'm intimidated by the idea of writing a fic with her as a more major character, but this chapter is my hug for her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after s02ep12, when May gets back to the base after Skye shuts herself in the Cage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why these two barely got a single scene in season 2b where they weren't fighting/arguing, but this is one of the missing scenes I'm the most bitter about. I know we didn't know what was coming in ep17 back when this episode aired, but once we knew about Bahrain, the parallels were everywhere.

She really shouldn’t have been surprised that she didn’t wake up alone.

May is sitting in a chair at the table, facing away from Skye and doing something on a tablet. She glances over at her as Skye raises her arm to check her watch before remembering it isn’t there anymore, that it exploded back in the Temple in her very first quake.

_Shit, now I have enough to be counting._

“Eight pm,” May says quietly, turning slightly to face Skye as she sits up on the cot. “I thought you would still be asleep when we got back, but Fitz said you shook off the ICER serum faster than usual.”

Skye rubs a hand over her face, drags her fingers self-consciously through her hair. “Is that all he said?” she asks, staring straight ahead.

“And that you had packed a bag.”

“How did you get in here without waking me up?” Skye glances over at the heavy steel door of the Cage before finally looking over at the woman’s face.

May gives her the same look she gave her yesterday morning in the training room.

 _Please_.

Skye feels her lips turn into an awkward smile. The bubble of tension in the room bursts, leaving her feeling marginally lighter.

“How did everything go with the Kree?” She swings her legs off the bed and sits on the edge as May turns fully in her chair to face her.

“Well, you probably saw the state of the lab, but the others were obviously able to subdue him in the end. Lady Sif has taken him back to his planet.”

“And…how did you resolve…” Skye vaguely gestures towards herself, “… _this_ …with her? Is she coming back for me later?”

“No.” May’s tone is firm. “She’s leaving us responsible for you.”

Again, Skye feels one of the weights on her shoulders tumble off. She sighs in relief. “Ok, well, that’s a start.”

_But what next?_

“What are you feeling right now?” May asks softly. She still hasn’t moved closer.

Skye shakes her head, looking down at her hands, which ache for some reason. “I’m not sure.”

“Skye. I can’t help if you don’t tell me. Haven’t we both seen that by now?”

Skye meets her eyes.

“Okay, fine: I’m scared. You heard the Kree and Lady Sif. I’m made to destroy. What happens when I do more than break a few windows? I’m scared because I don’t know what could happen or how to stop it, and so is everyone else. I heard them all talking about me when I woke up and came out to see what had happened. Fitz was trying to stand up for me, but he was the only one. The others were saying I should have just come clean-that they could have ‘handled me’ in a way that was ‘safe for everyone’. That they’re the ones that need protection from me. From what I am.”

May’s demeanor is still calm. “And what do you think that is?” she asks gently.

Skye looks away.

“You heard them-the Kree called me a weapon. An abomination.”

“He doesn’t get to say what you are.”

Skye closes her eyes. Of course May knows something about claiming your own identity.

_I told you never to call me that._

“I don’t know, May. I’m just…dangerous.”

After a long silence, May finally stands, and Skye opens her eyes, thinking she’s about to leave. Instead, however, May crosses the space between them, sitting down next to Skye on the cot. Without asking, the woman reaches for the neck of Skye’s shirt and pulls it gently it aside, exposing the budding bruise below Skye's collarbone where the ICER round exploded against her chest. Her voice is stern as she looks up and captures Skye’s gaze.

“Don’t _ever_ do that again.”

“I knew it was just an ICER, May,” Skye says quietly, nudging May’s hand away and straightening her shirt. “It was the only way I could think of to stop it before someone got hurt. I've seen you do this before too. You don't untie the knot-you just cut it. It's the simplest solution to the problem.”

“ _You_ are not the problem, and _that_ was not the solu-”

“I _am_ the problem!”

May seems visibly startled by the jump in Skye’s volume, and the girl takes advantage of this, staring her down as she continues.

“You can’t talk about all this like my powers are separate, like some ball and chain we just have to find the right key for. They _are_ me. _I_ am different. And _I_ am dangerous. Shooting myself was _my_ solution to a problem you couldn’t fix. I know you don’t want to hear that, May. But it was.”

May looks away. Skye knows it was a low blow, but at least she’s made her point. She still may not know the details of Bahrain, but she remembers Coulson’s words, and she has no doubt May remembers her own.

_You told Coulson you could fix the problem._

_But you couldn’t._

_You can’t._

“You can’t help here, May. You know that. This isn’t on you-it’s on me. And I won’t let myself be responsible for anyone getting hurt.”

_I’d take myself out of the equation before I let that happen._

May faces her again, and Skye sees darkness clouding her gaze.

“Maybe I can’t, but I will help you figure this out.”

_So that we never have to resort to that again._

A silence shaped like a question mark stretches between them. Neither needs to say it.

_How?_

May slips a hand into her jacket pocket. “I think we both know there’s a connection between your anxiety levels and the shaking. So let’s start by keeping an eye on those.”

May passes her another smart wristband, nearly identical to the one Skye had before. When she takes it, however, Skye immediately realizes it’s heavier.

“Fitz made you another one. Said this one has a titanium-reinforced shell, so it should hold up against…anything.”

“ _Should_ ,” Skye repeats as she slips it onto her right wrist. “It’s a start.”

A long silence covers them again.

_Now what?_

_Now everyone knows about the elephant in the Playground. Now everyone knows there are more Diviners out there-meaning probably more people like me. Now Simmons can’t talk about Raina like she’s a plague to be eradicated unless she wants to start right here. Now everyone knows why we brought Trip home in fragments._

Wordlessly, May reaches over and wraps her hand lightly around Skye’s.

“The others will come around.”

Skye doesn’t face her. “You don’t know that.”

_I’ve had enough empty promises for a lifetime. I don’t need them from you, too._

“Just give them time. When people change, the people around them have a hard time understanding.”

_I would know._

“My father said something like that, back in Puerto Rico. That after I changed, no one else would understand.”

“He may be right. But he forgot the thing that makes all the difference.”

“And that is?” Skye finally looks over at her, and May holds her gaze.

“That this team loves you.” May squeezes her hand gently. “I promised you, Skye-no matter what, as long as we’re on the same side, we’re taking care of you. Yes, this is a shock. Yes, this is new. But you’re one of us, and we’re all going to figure this out. Together.”

Skye smiles sadly at her, then glances away, deciding to press her luck.

“Look, I hate to go two-for-two on touchy subjects today, but you know I've read your file. And didn’t your marriage end within a year of Bahrain? I like to believe love is stronger than fear but-”

May interrupts her. “That was different.”

Skye looks over at her, surprised, but now May's looking away.

“What, are you saying you didn't actually lo-”

“He didn’t ask for the divorce. I did.”

Skye is too stunned to say anything else as May stands, gently releasing Skye’s hand.

“Are you hungry?” she asks, picking her tablet up from the table. She doesn’t wait for Skye to answer. “I’ll go see what the others made for dinner and bring you a plate.”

She’s at the door in three steps, and with one push, it swings open a metallic groan- _Okay, seriously,_ how _did she not wake me up earlier?_ \- but Skye wants to end this on a good note.

“Thanks, Mom,” she calls after May.

_What’s the risk? It never lasts anyway._

May pauses, one foot in and one foot out as she looks back at Skye, a strange collage of emotions on her face. Skye offers her another smile, but May doesn’t smile back.

“Everything’s gonna be all right.” A wisp of pain threads through her voice.

_I don’t know how, but I’m promising anyway._

Something dark and heavy lingers in the air as those words die away. But before Skye can say anything else, May is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A part of me wants to believe that Skye still didn't really understand how terrifying this situation was for May (because who wants to hear a lecture from parents about how bad we scared them?), and that she still didn't see the connection between May's story and hers, otherwise she would never have said the things she did to May in ep20.
> 
> Don't worry. I'm determined to figure out how those missing scenes would have gone.  
> \--------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> I'm fairly certain there will be a few more scenes in this work continuing through the rest of the events of season 2, but I'm looking for a few more challenges. Feel free to comment with any ideas you have for scenes you'd like to see me write, particularly about these two characters, but I'd be willing to take the challenge of fic about other characters in the show (disclaimer-I don't ship Philinda romantically, so...). 
> 
> I'm trying to come up with more four-and-one/five-and-one challenges (I like things that have a set beginning and ending and the challenge is getting the characters there naturally), so if you have any ideas/challenges you're willing to share, throw em at me. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after s02ep13.
> 
> Skye just needed one thing. She thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for anyone just joining us who started the fic thinking they were just getting some short-and-sweet scenes; I had no intention of the chapters getting this long, but here we are. A part of me has considered breaking the chapters into stand-alone one-shots and making this a series rather than a work, since the way I write each chapter has been different almost every time...but...I like your previous comments and don't want to lose them!
> 
> Also, I really did start writing this chapter thinking, "Hey look! fluff! I never get to write fluff!"  
> And then it wasn't. This is one of those times when you can blame the characters.

She really had thought she would get away with it.

Things had been silent outside the Cage for a while (not that she could hear much through vibranium walls). Simmons hadn’t reappeared since she had explained the nature of Skye’s injuries and why she had compression casts on each hand and wrist. May had walked Dr. Garner out of the plane not long after. Coulson had brought her some snacks and sympathy sometime before midnight.

But now it’s four in the morning, her sedative has worn off, and Skye can’t sleep for the deep throbbing in her arms.

She knows it’s better for everyone’s peace of mind if she stays in the Cage. She doesn’t want to cross paths with any of the others in the base and face the inevitable awkward non-silence as they step carefully around the elephant in the room. But it’s been four days, and her hair is greasier than a slice of pizza, and she can’t sit through another endless day of house arrest like this.

She is getting a shower before dawn if it’s the last thing she does.

The Playground is dead silent but the hallway lights are all on as she pads lightly out of the Bus into the hangar and then into the deserted hallways, slipping past the empty labs towards the common area. There’s only one women’s-only bathroom in the whole base, situated at the end of the barracks hall. Skye slips silently through the gauntlet of closed bunk doors, backing against the swinging bathroom door to open it wide enough to slip through but not wide enough for the hinge to squeak, and flips on the lights with the side of her cast only after the door closes behind her. With a bare foot, she fishes her shower caddy out from beneath the sinks and pushes it gently across the floor toward the shower furthest from the door.

But it’s only as she closes the curtain and reaches for the knobs that she realizes one thing she should have thought of before she ever left the plane: she can’t get the casts wet. She can’t get the casts _off_. And right now, for all the good they can do her, she may as well not have arms.

_One thing. This one thing that would have made me feel even the tiniest bit better. And I can’t even do this._

Defeated, Skye lets her forehead rest against the cool tile of the shower stall. She doesn’t realize she’s crying until it’s too late to stop it.

 _This is stupid, this is so stupid…_ she starts to raise a hand to wipe her tears before remembering that she’d better not because moving her arms at all just hurts like hell…

And, of course, that’s when the bathroom door creaks open.

_Oh for God’s sake-_

She bites her lip and listens, hearing the person pause for just a second in the doorway before stepping in and letting it creak shut behind them. Whoever it is pulls another basket out from beneath the sink. She hears a sink tap turn on briefly and the unmistakable sounds of someone brushing their teeth. When the sink turns on and then off again and Skye hears the basket get kicked back under the sink, she holds her breath, waiting for the sound of the door opening again.

Instead, she hears the woman sigh.

“So do you want me to keep pretending like I don’t know you’re in there? Or would you like me to help you wash your hair?”

Both frustrated and relieved, Skye sighs loudly.

 _Dammit, May_.

Instead of answering, Skye just pushes back the curtain with her elbow and immerges from the shower stall, casted hands hanging defeated at her sides. May is standing at the sink, dressed only in leggings and a loose tank, hair pulled back and undeniably messy, as though she’s just gotten out of bed. Her gaze is soft, almost pitying, as she takes in Skye’s appearance in a quick head-to-toe sweep before turning away, towards the door.

“Sit tight-I’ll be right back.”

She returns with a folding chair, a towel, and a plastic cup. Skye’s got her words working again by then.

“You’re not supposed to be awake until five,” she says pointedly as May unfolds the chair and sets it with its back flush against one of the sinks.

“No,” May says as Skye sits down and May tucks the towel over her shoulders and around her neck, “I’m not supposed to be _up_ until five. But there’s also not supposed to be shadows passing my door at 4:10.”

Skye sends her gaze to the ceiling. “Does _anything_ get past you?”

“It’s not supposed to.”

May opens one of the taps to let the water warm up before retrieving Skye’s things from the shower stall and holding up a shampoo bottle for confirmation.

“Yeah, that one.”

May sets the bottle on the sink. “Go ahead and lean back.”

She lifts Skye’s hair as she settles back against the sink, the nape of her neck resting against the porcelain, cushioned slightly by the towel. May pushes her hair beneath the water, wetting it thoroughly before using the cup to tip water over the top of her head, shielding Skye’s eyes with her other hand as the warm water runs down to her scalp. Skye stares at the ceiling as May squeezes a handful of the shampoo into her hand and smears it into her hair, slowly working it through, digging her fingertips gently down until they massage along her scalp. Skye feels her eyes close and she hums involuntarily.

_Oh, thank God._

“Been awhile?” She thinks she can hear a smile in May’s voice.

“I can’t even _remember_ the last time someone else washed my hair,” Skye says quietly, keeping her eyes closed as May turns the sink on again and begins rinsing out her hair with cups of water.

“Am I doing all right?” May’s tone is casual, but Skye hears the tentativeness lurking beneath it.

“You’re amazing,” Skye assures her S.O., opening her eyes and smiling up at her.

May smiles back a little, her hands busy gently combing the suds out with her fingers. “Well, this is my first time too, so I’m trying to go slow.”

A giggle breaks out of Skye’s chest before she can stop it. She closes her eyes, fighting the urge to raise a hand to cover her mouth to hide her irrational grin. And then it’s growing, compounding, until she’s really _laughing_ , her body shaking embarrassingly even as she tries to keep her head tipped back against the sink. She can’t stop, for some reason, even when she feels May’s hands still and then withdraw, her silence clearly perplexed. Skye takes the chance to sit up, dragging her dripping hair out of the sink, and she feels May catch it in the towel just in time.

“Really, I was going for funny with the double entendre, but this feels a little over-the-top,” May says from behind her as she twists the towel around her hair, squeezing out the water.

“I’m sorry-” Skye gasps out, raising her arms against the pain to hide the cracked grin on her face. “It’s just-” she gasps for air again. “I mean-this is so ridiculous-”

She doubles over again, laughing even harder. May puts one hand on her shoulder, but Skye barely registers the spark of pain.

“Skye,” she says warningly, “You’re going to wake up the others if you get any louder.”

“My father broke people out of an insane asylum! A nuthouse, May! Isn’t that just the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard?” Skye is still laughing. “There was a girl with knives for fingernails and a man who kills people with his voice! All because my dad wanted to get my attention! And then that didn’t even work out for him because someone with no eyes appeared out of nowhere and fucking teleported him away!”

May has let go of her, and Skye barely registers the sound of the sink being turned on again. She opens her eyes and stares ahead, focusing on nothing as the words shoot out like streamers around the fizzling laughter.

“I mean, what is this life? A week ago, I got blasted with blue crystals and now I’m a walking natural disaster! Oh, and the other girl’s a walking briar patch-Oh, and I got my friend killed! Isn’t that just-”

And then May throws a cup of water in her face.

Skye’s eyes and mouth immediately snap shut and she sputters against the water, blinking up at May even as her arms lift automatically to block another splash if it’s coming.

May looks upset as she sets the cup back in the sink, but also looks fearfully serious as she kneels before Skye and raises her hands slowly, unthreateningly, before reaching up to dry her face off gently with the towel.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and the pain in her voice sounds genuine, “I’m sorry-but that’s enough.”

May finishes wiping Skye’s face and blots gently at the wet spot on her shirt, then rests her hands on Skye's knees and holds her gaze steadily as she continues.

“What happened to you-what keeps happening to you-yes, it’s three miles outside of unbelievable. But I’m not going to stand here and watch you disintegrate into hysterics-that’s not the way I taught you to deal with things.”

_No matter how big a feeling is, it’s not supposed to trample you. It's never supposed to be the thing that's in control._

May rises and takes a few steps away, crouching again to dig something out of her own basket. Skye’s eyes follow her, watching as she produces a wide-tooth comb.

“Swing your legs around that way,” May says as she crosses back over to the sink. Skye pivots on the chair so that her legs are to the side and May can stand directly behind her. May lifts her hair and drapes the towel back over Skye’s shoulders before lifting the pile in her hands and starting to comb out the ends. Skye doesn’t trust herself to open her mouth again, so she waits quietly, swallowing against the surprising dryness of her mouth.

“I really am sorry for that,” May says one more time. “But raising my voice or kicking your chair would have just brought a couple more people running-”

_Please don’t assume the worst of me._

“It’s okay. I understand,” Skye says quickly.

May starts working the comb through longer sections of hair as she continues.

“It’s okay to be feeling what you’re feeling. Scared. Sad. Confused. Overwhelmed. But you can’t let it overwhelm and control you like that. We’ve been over this-you use it on your terms. And as for Trip-we’ve talked about this. I’m not going to let you blame yourself for something out of your control.”

Skye can’t help it. She scoffs loudly.

“Really? Cause from the looks of things, you’ve always been just fine with doing that to yourself.”

Skye feels the comb dragging over her scalp now, plowing furrows across the crown of her head as a horrible, sprawling silence follows those words, and Skye wishes she’d just kept her damn mouth shut.

They sit in silence as May finishes combing out Skye’s hair, then dries it gently with the towel one more time. When she feels May unwrap her hair and drape the towel around her shoulders again, Skye starts to scoot forward to stand but stops when she feels May’s hands remain lightly on her shoulders.

“May?”

“Just a minute.” Something sounds off in May’s voice, and Skye risks a glance to the side and sees May’s reflection in the mirror above the sink.

There are tears on her cheeks.

“May?” she repeats, and as she rotates on the chair, beneath May’s hands, the woman takes a step away, one hand raising to quickly wipe the tears down, out of sight. “May I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

May’s eyes catch hers with a warning flash towards the door.

“Not here.”

She lets May busy herself by putting their things back under the sink and folding up the chair.

“Let’s go to your bunk and I’ll help you change clothes,” May says tightly, and Skye understands and follows her.

Once they are behind closed doors in Skye’s deplorably messy bunk, May seems to forget herself for a moment.

“What do you want to wear?” she says a little shakily, looking around at the heaps of clothes across the floor. She turns to Skye, waiting for an answer, but Skye just steps straight into the woman’s space, wrapping her in a hug.

It takes a long time for May to respond, but Skye doesn’t let go, doesn’t even move until she feels May’s arms finally raise to rest on her back, then slide gently around her. The lightness of the touch feels weird, and Skye tries to hug her tighter, but the wave of pain that crashes through her nervous system pushes her back from that idea. She turns her head and brushes her lips once against May’s temple, making up for the stiffness of her arms.

“I am so, so sorry.” May’s voice is still shaky, and Skye feels the stiffness in each indrawn breath, the feeling of emotions being reined in, bound up, and shelved. May’s hands rest lightly on her shoulders, covering the bruises and the broken bones that she unwittingly caused. Skye can hear the apology echoing in the gentleness of the touch-

_I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I should have known better._

And Skye knows in that moment that May’s pain out-fathoms hers.

She turns her head slightly, wanting the woman to hear her clearly.

“May. You did what you thought was right. You did your best, and your best was better than I could have done on my own. There was no way you could have known what was going to happen.”

May’s voice echoes in the bones pressed against Skye’s ear. “Just because it was an honest mistake doesn’t make this any less a mistake.”

“Melinda May.” Skye draws back until she can meet May’s eyes. “This is not Bahrain.”

She takes a step back because she needs to see May, see all of this mess at once, and because she needs May to see the full picture.

“Look at me, May.”  

 _Don’t look at the bruises-look at_ me _._

The woman’s eyes are dry but her lips are pursed, the pain held in, and Skye wonders how May doesn’t have bruises breaking out over her own arms.

“Look at me. I am alive. I am not ruined. I am not irreparable. And I’m not even mad at you. So please, May,” she steps into the woman’s space again and lays her clumsy hands on the woman’s shoulders, “please. Stop punishing yourself for something that no one even wants to punish you for. There’s no handbook for either of us here. We’re making it up as we go. And it hurts me just as much to watch you do _this_ ,” Skye raises her casted arms, “to yourself in a slightly-less-physical way. Neither of us is built for that. And it’s apparently helping no one to insist on it. So you and I just need to agree that we can’t let each other dig ourselves deep just because we weren’t ready for what happened. Can we do that?”

May holds her gaze as she moves one hand to cradle Skye’s cheek. “You were right, though, Skye. I can’t help you. I can’t fix this problem. I have no idea what to do.”

“I don’t hold that against you. And I don’t want you holding it against yourself.”

May looks away, seeming to resolve something within herself before turning back to Skye.

“There’s one more thing I have to tell you that might make you feel differently.” She shifts her hand to rest on Skye’s hand, tugging it gently from her shoulder to cradle it between them. “Tomorrow, I’m going to have to give Coulson my recommended course of action for you. And I’m going to tell him that we need to get you somewhere safe for the time being. Something is going on-I can’t tell you what-and I’m fairly certain there’s going to be a confrontation here. I don’t want you caught in the crossfire when that goes down. So I’m going to recommend that you be moved to a safe place to recover until the storm blows over.”

She falls silent, waiting for Skye’s reaction.

And Skye just nods and says, “Okay.”

May looks visibly startled, her brow furrowing as she searches Skye’s face.

“Okay?”

_You really follow me? You’re really with me?_

And Skye wants to ask more questions, wants to demand details and protest because _yes this sucks, moving again-_ but Skye has been watching May’s eyes and has read every anxious flicker, every concerned crinkle. But really, it’s all details around the fear.

May’s afraid that Skye won’t understand.

So she’s all the more determined to make this easier on her.

“I trust you, May. I don’t have to understand everything. I think I know you well enough to be able to take your word for things like this.”

May’s expression barely changes, but the relief that washes over her is clear as a tidal wave.

“Okay,” she breathes out again. And Skye takes the turn to move them on.

“You think you can still help me with some dry clothes?” Skye asks, turning away and fishing the nearest shirt off the floor and perching on the edge of her unmade bed. “Let’s go with loose, then maybe I’ll be able to manage by myself next time.”

May seems more than relieved to be back to something she knows how to do as she helps Skye slip off her wet shirt, bunching the fabric up around her neck before pulling the shirt over her head and moving the cuffs and sleeves gently down her mottled purple arms. Skye sees May staring, cataloguing the bruises, seeming to be feeling every one as she pulls the last of the shirt off around Skye’s casts.

“May.” She waits until May meets her eyes. “Let it go.”

_Please. Please. Please._

_I can’t stop you from doing this to yourself._

_I can only remind you that this cycle of guilt will only stop when you do._

_Let it go._

This time, Skye sees the tears as they arrive, breaking over the last lines of defense and filling May’s eyes. She reaches for May without thinking, barely registering the punishing pain throughout her arms as she draws the woman into her chest. May’s head falls before the tears do, her forehead resting on Skye’s shoulder, and Skye holds her as well as she can as she feels hot tears seeping silently out against her bare skin. She rests her arms on May's back and feels the tremors, feels the quake that she isn't creating but has nonetheless caused, and turns to press another apologetic kiss against the woman's hair.

May’s hand is on her waist, then Skye feels it slide over her bare stomach, the pad of her thumb seeming to snag on the scars that two bullets left in her last year, and May's tears are dripping over the bruise below her collarbone, a wordless apology, a silent sacrament... And Skye may not understand everything that May is saying, but she can certainly stay, she can certainly hang on, and she can certainly wait and listen.

Even if it’s the last thing she does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I nearly went there at the end. Not gonna lie, I really wanted to, and I'm still not 100% sure this was the way to end it. 
> 
> [Personal: WHY DO I EVEN SHIP THESE TWO? Honestly, I've even tried writing pwp fic to get this crazy ship out of my system and I CAN'T EVEN DO THAT because it feels too ooc and I don't like it at all. The kind of scenes I like reading is when intimacy results from trusting love, and that's probably the only way I'd ever write it. And if that's not what I've built here, then I don't even know what to call what they've got...]


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Skye comes back from Afterlife and joins the team for the mission to save Lincoln and Deathlok, there's a lot of things she ought to tell May.
> 
> But she won't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missing scene in s02e19-because we all know Skye didn't let that whole plane ride pass without talking to May...

She finds her in the cockpit after they review the mission. She doesn’t ask permission as she steps into the tiny capsule and shuts the door, wordlessly folding herself into the co-pilot’s seat beside May, steering clear of all the controls around her.

“Hey,” she says quietly.

May looks over at her and almost smiles. “Welcome back.”

The sky is a beautiful, solid sphere of darkness around their plane, stars upon stars crowding out the black spaces above, the Canadian wilderness empty and quiet below. With the unchanging blackness slipping beneath them and the motionless backdrop of stars around them, it almost looks like they aren’t even moving, just holding steady, caught between worlds.

_I wish we were._

“It’s beautiful,” Skye whispers.

“Yeah,” May replies just as softly.

_But that’s not why you’re here._

Skye sighs, propping her feet on the seat and drawing her knees into her chest. “Simmons and Fitz have a lot of questions. And…you know…Ward…”

“Don’t even say his name.” There is extra ice in May’s tone, and Skye throws a grateful smirk over the space between them.

“It was kind of hot, you know, walking in and seeing you pointing a gun at him.”

May just sighs heavily, staring ahead into the night. “Might not have needed to if I had killed him last year.”

“Or if I’d killed him in Puerto Rico. Now, if we had to line up, I think Fitz deserves a turn.”

“He had his chance, remember? He drained the oxygen from that bastard’s cell.”

“Oh yeah. Guess it’s Simmons’ turn, then. What is she even doing on this mission?” she asks, glancing over at May.

She sees the woman roll her eyes. “Coulson said she convinced him that we would need a doctor on the plane who was already familiar with Mike Petersen’s DNA. I have a feeling he was too distracted to really think about what he was agreeing to. She’s barely cleared for self-defense, let alone combat.”

“Being all together for a mission, though-when was the last time that even happened?”

They both know the answer to that: the Clairvoyant.

Or Puerto Rico, if you don’t count Ward.

_How much has changed..._

“Thank you,” Skye says after a moment, looking over at May, “for calling. You know, back at the cabin? I probably wouldn’t have made it out without the warning.”

Finally, May glances over at her. “You sure? The teleporter seemed like he had you covered.”

Skye realizes that no one knows that she had left by request. “He had come to the cabin just a little while before that. Tried to convince me that he was part of the group that wasn’t afraid of me, that wanted to help and protect me.”

“Unlike us?” There is nothing different in May’s tone, and that’s how Skye knows she’s hurt.

Skye really doesn’t want to have this conversation now, but she can’t seem stop herself from saying, “May. They _shot_ at me.”

“Bobbi said she told them not to—”

“Doesn’t change it—there was a bullet coming at me, and I didn’t know that I could do anything about it. I thought I was about to die—raising my hands was automatic. I didn’t know I could…” She thinks of the shockwave that had burst from her hands, the falling trees, the flying splinters…

_Still a walking natural disaster._

May lets them move on.

“So where have you been?” she asks quietly.

Skye thinks of the tiny community in the mountains, of the faces of people she already feels protective of. “I don’t know,” she says honestly.

And May lets that stand.

“Were you safe?”

Skye thinks of the time she’s spent with Cal, a man she still doesn’t trust. Time spent in the same community as Raina, whom she’d still happily injure if given the chance. Time spent learning how to use her powers, causing things to crumble or explode.

_Was that safe?_

“Safe enough,” Skye says. “What about _you_?”

She sees May almost roll her eyes. “The night they tried to take you in, it was another branch of SHIELD that attacked the Playgound.”

“Yeah, Simmons was filling me in on that,” Skye says. “She said Bobbi and Mack were leading that? But you got Coulson out and then surrendered—and they locked you up?”

May nods, still staring straight ahead. “For a time. Then they offered me a place on their Board.”

Skye feels her eyebrows go up. “You took it?”

“Coulson doesn’t know that yet,” Mays says quickly, a warning in her tone.

_And he’s not going to until he needs to._

Skye stares at her in silence, trying to lay out the timeline of the two short weeks she’s been gone. So much was happening to her that she hadn’t even considered how much might have been happening back at the base…

“So...what's happened?” Something in May’s voice tells her this is the question she’s wanted to ask since Skye walked in.

And Skye doesn’t know where to start. She turns back to the darkness ahead of them and feels the world-shifting facts pile up behind her lips.

_My mother is alive._

_Not only alive, but well. Still young. Healthy. A leader of a group of people like me._

_My dad…he’s not as bad as I thought._

_Raina…she’s suffering according to her choices. But I almost feel sorry for her._

_There’s this guy…_

_I heard the story about the girl you killed in Bahrain…_

But she can’t say any of that to May.

She picks out her words carefully.

“Just…learning. A lot. Learning about what people like me actually are…Learning how to control my powers. My arms are better—see?” She pushes up her sleeves and lets May see the pale, unbruised skin. “I’ve still got a long way to go, but it’s a great start.”

“Do you trust these people you’ve been with?” She hears the tiny edge in May’s voice, and it hurts more than the woman probably realizes.

“Do you trust the other SHIELD?” Skye responds.

_I don’t know if I believe them, but I believe you._

May sighs and stares out at the night ahead of them as she answers, a flow of words that surprises Skye.

“SHIELD was something great once. Coulson’s not the only person whose world fell apart when SHIELD collapsed. I don’t mean to say that SHIELD didn’t matter a lot to you and Simmons and Fitz and Trip, too, but you’re…you’re young. So many men and women gave twenty, thirty, fifty years to SHIELD, only to see it crumble from within. When Gonzales spoke to me alone, he said that without a strong and united foundation, SHIELD would fall again. I don’t want to be someone who stands in the way of SHIELD restoring itself, no matter how much Coulson matters to me. I kept him safe—and now being on the Board is the best thing I can do to keep the rest of you safe.”

Skye stares through the dark at May and feels her heart swell within her chest, expanding with love until she can barely breathe.

She thinks of her words to Coulson when he told her what he had learned about her history all those months ago—back when he and May had found out the unimaginable truth that SHIELD had been keeping her safe her whole life:

_Not the family I’ve never had—the family I’ve always had._

She thinks of the parents she thought she’d never know, the twisting, tangled journey that has brought them back to each other, how painful and disappointing and wonderful and unbelievable everything in the last year has been…

But through it all has been _this_ —the family she wasn’t looking for. The family that found her. Kept her. Protected her.

The team—the woman—who put herself between Skye and harm more times than she can count. The ones who didn’t give up when things got hard, got bad, seemed impossible. They're all still here. Still holding on.

And now it’s all about to be blown up.

“Do you remember when I sat with you in here the first time?” Skye asks. “We were leaving Utah—“

“I remember.”

“I was still afraid of you back then. More than a little, actually. I thought you didn’t like me—“

“I didn’t.” But May throws a glinting smirk her way, and Skye smiles back.

“Well, looking back at that time feels like ancient history already. But that mission—I think that was when things started changing for you and me. And now, it’s the same people on the plane, we’re the same two people in the cockpit but…”

She suddenly can’t speak anymore, the words jamming in her throat. Skye closes her eyes and tips her head back against the seat, her throat working furiously against a choking sob.

She feels May glance over at her, waiting patiently. She can’t say it, but Skye looks over at May and lets her hear it.

_I wanted things to change._

_But they did._

_They are._

_They will._

_And I don’t know if I want them to anymore._

May holds her gaze in the darkness for a long moment, then does something to the controls and stands up.

Skye is startled, assuming she’s about to leave as she takes the two steps to the cockpit door, but instead, May just turns the lock. She leans back against the door and then slides down until she’s sitting on the floor like a human doorstop. She extends a hand to Skye, who stands and takes the two steps between them, dropping to her knees and crowding gratefully into May’s body with hers. May’s arms wrap around her, holding her tight against the grief that is bleeding out of her soul.

“We have three hours until we reach the Arctic Circle, Skye,” May says quietly, one hand pressing into her back, one hand curling around her side.

_If you need a minute, now’s your chance._

Skye lets herself fall into the woman, presses her face into May’s shoulder, and the truth tumbles out.

“My mother’s alive.”

She can’t look at May as she says the words, or in the awful silence that follows them, filled only by her ragged breathing as tears seep from her eyes and soak into May's shirt.

She just presses in as close as she can, holds May as tightly as she can, as if the strength of her embrace can make up for the awful, wonderful, shattering truth.

* * *

 

She wasn’t expecting to doze off, but her eyes eventually blink open to the strange angle of the cockpit from the floor. Her ear is pressed against May’s heart, the pulse familiar in her ears, and the woman is gently shaking her awake.

“Skye,” she’s repeating quietly, as if she doesn't mind if it takes a long time. Maybe it already has. “Skye.”

Skye inhales deeply and sits up, dragging a hand down her face, which feels dried-out and stiff. When she faces May, the woman's face is almost apologetic.

“We’re almost there. I need to get back on the stick.”

Skye nods and moves out of the way, letting May get to her feet and climb back into the pilot’s seat. She stays on the floor and watches May go through her motions, watches the faultless dance of her fingers through the various switches and dials, feels the shudder as they briefly come out of auto-pilot so that May can bring them into a descent…and soon enough, May is putting them back on auto-pilot, slipping her headset on just long enough to announce through the plane’s PA system:

“We’re starting our descent. Five-minute countdown.”

And then she takes the headset off, sets it on the yoke with an air of finality, and says, “It’s time.”

Skye closes her eyes and swallows hard.

_Time to say goodbye to one more home._

When she opens her eyes, May is in front of her, offering a hand up. Skye takes it, and May pulls her to her feet. Once she’s standing though, May doesn’t reach for the door. Doesn’t let go of her hand.

“We’ve got some lives to save, Skye,” the woman says quietly.

_Get it together. At least until this is done._

Skye thinks of Lincoln and Mike Peterson. Wordlessly, she nods. May nods back and breaks her gaze, drops Skye’s hand, and reaches for the doorknob.

“Say goodbye to the Bus.”

_This is the end._

A sudden desperation rises up in Skye’s throat, and she reaches out and presses her hand gently over May’s stomach, pausing her in the cockpit. May looks over at her, and Skye counts on her words getting though as their gazes meet again.

 _Tell me it’s not, though. Tell me_ this _isn’t something I’m saying goodbye too as well, even after what I just told you, even with what I know you’ve done…_

And she can tell from May’s gaze that she knows. The woman holds her gaze as she brings one hand up to touch Skye’s cheek, fingertips just brushing her hair. Sadness bleeds through the touch.

_I’m sorry. But we both know it is._

Skye closes her eyes and tips her head until her forehead rests against May’s temple. For a few silent seconds, they just breathe together, holding without holding, as the plane plunges into the Arctic night, towards danger, towards their mission.

 _She’s not your mom_ , Skye reminds herself. _She never has been. May has always been, before all else, a SHIELD agent. Your relationship begins and ends with that._

_If this is the end…_

Her hand slips from May’s stomach to her ribs, up to her shoulder, curls around her neck…

“Skye—”

It sounds like a warning. Skye ignores it.

_It’s time._

She turns her head before she can change her mind and kisses May’s lips.

It’s gentle and soft and over very quickly, and when she pulls away, Skye can only say, “I’m sorry,” and turn and walk out the door first.

She’s had lots of practice with leaving—she’s learned how to do it with dignity.

_Say goodbye to the Bus. Say goodbye to the family. Say goodbye to anything that was or could have been._

She pulls the cockpit door shut behind herself, knowing May will let her go. Knowing that she already has.

Neither of them needs to say it out loud. 

_Goodbye._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...May's lack of reaction to Coulson telling her about Jiaying in the next episode makes me feel like Skye had already told her in some way or another that her mother was alive, and May just made the connection herself.
> 
> I hated writing this chapter. But, to be fair, I hated most of the canon through the end of season 2. So I wanted to find the place where things went wrong, where Skye made up her mind about May and Jiaying in some way, and how she could pick a side so easily.
> 
> I'm still so bitter over where May's story went after this episode. There will be at least one more chapter, but no promises to continue this through the new season unless this relationship gets a redemption soon.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the dust settles and it's time to move on, Skye and May have a lot to talk about...or not.
> 
> Set in the last scenes of s02e21, the season 2 finale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of you for joining me on this fic. If you haven't noticed, I've made this a series, and any future (season 3) scenes in this verse will be one-shots in this series.
> 
> Obviously there's so much potential for post-finale conversations between these two, but I kept it to one chapter. I think I really needed to see where May was going before I was ready to write this scene. And I just felt like there had to be a story with that last thing she packed...

“So…Maui?” Skye asks by way of greeting, stopping in the doorway and leaning against the frame.  She takes it as a good sign that May’s door was standing open anyway.

May has a duffle bag open on her bed and is feeding clothes into it, military-precise with her arrangement. She turns, seeming unsurprised by Skye’s presence, and cocks her head.

“Where’d you hear that?” she asks lightly, and Skye logs her tones and tics to look for the next time she suspects May is lying.

“Didn't hear it-I checked your credit card statement. Statements. You bought each ticket on a separate card, had a couple of other tickets thrown in there...”

May shakes her head and turns back to her packing. “Still the hacker…Back to your roots, huh?”

“You too, it seems.” Skye edges into the room, staying near the door.

“I’m not from Hawaii. It’s just a vacation.”

“With your ex-husband.”

“Yes?”

_Go on. You really want to do this now?_

They've been dancing around each other for days. Ever since the Day of Disasters, ever since they got the Iliad back to land and the remains of SHIELD consolidated and her mother cremated and her father rebooted...well, it was easy to put this off. Since then, they've both been busy in different places, organizing and assessing and repairing...everything except this. 

Skye tries to think of another parry for a brief moment, or even a jab to cut back with...but the truth is, she's had enough fighting. As elephants in the room go, May's vacation plan is not even the largest one present.

She reaches back and closes the door, shutting them in with them.

“I’m sorry,” she begins quietly, but then she can’t decide what she wants to finish it with. There’s so, so much...

_Sorry I said the things I did._

_Sorry I didn't trust you._

_Sorry I put my trust in the wrong place._

_Sorry I hurt you._

_Sorry I helped this disaster along..._

May tries to get ahead of her.

“I know, Skye," she says, still facing away. "You don’t have to say it—“

“I do, though,” Skye interrupts, louder. “If you not for you, I need to say it for me. I’m _sorry._ I…I took that knowledge about the girl and threw it at you like it was...like _you_ were the worst person in the room. And here, _I’m_ the one who betrayed you all.”

“You chose your family, Skye,” May says, her tone still gentle. “You did what you thought was right.”

“No, I broke my word. I promised you once that I would stand by my family, which is _this team_ , and then I didn't. And so many people their lives that day because—“

“ _Don’t do that_ ,” May cuts her off, spinning and grabbing Skye’s forearm in a vice grip. _Now_ her tone is firm. “We’ve been over this. You can choose the truths that change you, as long as they’re the truth. But the truth’s not relative: this wasn't your fault. A woman you believed in made some bad decisions. And when you saw that for what it was, you did the right thing.”

And Skye knows what they’re both thinking.

 _You were willing to do the_ worst _thing._

She drops her eyes to May's hand on her arm. The woman's grip softens, but she doesn't let go.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but thank you, May, for…for offering to be the one to do it.”

As she looks up, May releases her arm and takes a half step back, her gaze falling away. “It was the only way to stop everything, but I didn’t want you to have to live with that on your hands.”

_Like me._

Skye points to the next elephant.

“You’re standing here telling me that the truth is not relative, but you…the girl was dangerous, May. Even Jiaying said so. If you hadn’t…done the worst thing…someone else would have. You just did your job, but you let yourself be the bearer of all the guilt.”

The woman is still angled away, arms wrapped around herself, and May’s silence tells her that there’s nothing to correct.

Skye continues, “You think you’re past the point of no return, don’t you? Whether you believe in hell or not, you think you deserve it. That’s why you offered to take my mother's life…for you, what’s one more?”

“Like I said, I didn’t want you to have to live with it,” May says, her gaze finally lifting to Skye’s again. “I’d even take your hate if it would save you from living with that name in your book.”

“I don’t hate you, May,” Skye says with a shake of her head, eyes falling back to the open duffel on the bed behind them, “but you’re _leaving_ , now, and I don’t know what to feel about that.”

“It’s just a vacation, Skye,” May repeats, turning back to her duffel and adding more clothes.

“Okay,” Skye says, actually rolling her eyes.

_I can't even pretend that I buy that._

“I don’t think there’s anything I could say that could convince you otherwise--it seems like you’ve got your mind made up about how to feel.”

Skye feels like a teenager being lectured by a teacher, but she can’t help that. Her throat feels tight as she glares at May’s back.

“I can’t make this sound unselfish May—it absolutely is. I’m losing _three_ parents in a week. And the one that can _choose_ to stay is choosing to leave.”

May spins at that, her gaze hard as it collides with Skye’s.

“I. am. not. your. mother,” May reminds her, every word thrown like a punch.

_We did this the soft way before. Didn’t turn out too well._

“Goddammit, I _know!_ ”

Ashamed, Skye balls her hands into fists and presses them against her forehead, pinching her eyes shut against the embarrassing, insistent, sudden onslaught of tears. She feels the suggestion of a tremor and shuts it down, then changes her mind and lets it focus in on her own body because _any_ pain, even the bone-fracturing kind, would be better than the one tearing her heart in half in her chest…

_I wish I could hate you for that._

_I wish I could hate Jiaying for everything._

_But I can’t. I've tried and I can't._

_And that makes this all so much_ harder _._

And then May’s arms are around her and they are pressed together head to toe, unencumbered by casts or bruises, a collision of wills meeting in frustration and apology. Skye loosens her control just a little and lets May feel the rumble, the aftershocks, the overwhelmed shaking that she’s had to keep a constant leash on since a bullet and a boat and a battle blew her world to pieces once again.

_How are you still here?_

This woman in her arms, the one with whom she was sure she had burned a bridge beyond repair, who had cleared the air with a direct ‘My head still hurts’.

_Your fault._

‘You didn’t know.’

_Not your fault._

...How can she forgive this fast?

_And then leave?_

“I’m sorry,” May whispers near her ear. “The only thing that could make this less painful is if we had loved each other less.”

_But neither of us would have ever chosen that route._

_So here we are._

Skye forces her throat to loosen enough for her words to squirm out. “May…please…”

_Don’t._

_Go._

May turns her head and kisses Skye’s cheek, a silent press of lips against damp skin, then pulls back to grip her face, the same intimate gesture from the last time she left on an uncertain mission.

“Do you remember why I started training you a year ago?”

Skye closes her eyes. Of course she does.

The words punch themselves out of her mouth.

“To make me not need you.”

May waits until Skye opens her eyes and meets hers again before she corrects her. Her eyes and voice are soft.

“To _prepare_ you. To prepare you to do _this_.” She thumbs Skye’s last tears gently away, then lets her hands fall to her sides again. Skye drags her sleeve across her cheek and looks down as May continues, “SHIELD has been my life since I was younger than you, Skye. It may not have been your life for as long, but is the beginning and the end of everything for you now. I never could have guessed how far, how wide, or how deep this would stretch, but here you are. Coulson lost one hand already, but I’m not leaving him without another.”

Skye looks up at May.

“You’re ready for this,” the woman says, as though it’s a simple statement of fact.

Skye guesses she should deny it, but she knows that won’t go anywhere. So she shrugs and says, “Thanks to you.”

“No, thanks to _you_.” May’s hands return, this time gripping Skye’s arms gently. “Every bump and twist and turn, every unexpected pitfall and detour, and you’ve still come back _here_. You fought, you survived, and you _chose_ SHIELD. And now you’re going to help carry it.”

Skye forces herself to offer a smile. “I’ll do my best to make sure it’s still in one piece when you come back.”

_Say you’re coming back._

A shadow of a smile crosses May’s features. “I know you will.”

_I’m sorry. I can’t._

And Skye nods, knowing that they have to say goodbye here. _If not for her, then for me._

“Hey, stay here for just a minute, okay?”

Skye doesn’t wait for May to agree before turning and walking quickly out the door, crossing to her own bunk a few doors down and snatching the bag off her desk.

“I got you something,” she says as she walks back into May’s room, holding out the small gift bag with the silly, unnecessary tissue paper growing out the top. She walks up and offers it to the woman, who now sits beside her bag on the bed.

May takes it from her, looking more than a little surprised. “When exactly did you get out of the base long enough to pick this up?”

“Secret. Come on, open it!” Skye urges, plastering excitement over her pain.

May plucks the paper off the top, looks into the bag, but doesn’t take the gift out. A strange smile curls her lips. “Are you trying to tell me something?” she asks, looking up at Skye, who shrugs.

“Can you guess?”

_Come on, we’ve gotten pretty good at hearing what the other is saying._

May actually smiles then. A real smile-all sunshine and soft edges, and all Skye can think is, _I wish I had more of those to remember._

“I’d kind of like to hear you say it,” May says quietly, and Skye grins back at her, her heart swelling until it nearly hurts to breathe.

“I want you to be good to yourself, May," she says, the words squeezing out around the one thing she _can't_ say that is sitting on the tip of her tongue. "You've done a number on yourself for our sake-I think you need to be done with fighting for a little while, too.”

May actually looks touched for the briefest second before dropping her telltale eyes back down to the bag in her hands. “Anything else?”

Skye shakes her head, still smiling. She lets her tone slip into the dramatic, but the words are still one hundred percent true. “And, Melinda May, I think you’re smoking hot. And if you wear that, everyone else will too.”

May huffs out a suggestion of a laugh, pulls the red garment halfway out of the bag, and checks the tag. “Spot-on with the size,” she says, sounding impressed.

“I’ve spent enough time watching you; it’d be pretty embarrassing if I got it wrong.”

May looks up at her and smiles again.

“Thank you.”

_For this._

Skye swallows. “Thank _you_.”

_For everything._

May turns and sets the gift bag on the bed, pulling out the red bikini and adding it to her duffel, which she stands and shoulders without zipping up.

“I’ve got a few more things to get from my locker,” she says, turning back to Skye with a question in her eyes.

_Is there anything else you still want to say?_

Skye nods. “I’ll say goodbye here, if that’s okay.”

May nods, and Skye doesn’t wait for permission before crowding into the woman’s space, wrapping her in a last hug. May’s arms wrap around her, reassuring and certain, and Skye knows that whatever happens next, this, right now, is unquestionable.

They don’t have to say it.

It probably won’t make this easier.

“I’ll do my best,” she repeats quietly over May’s shoulder.

_I love you._

“I want you do _good_ ,” May whispers back, and Skye knows that wasn’t an accident of grammar.

_Promise me this first._

“I promise,” Skye whispers, her heart beating against hers.

They stand there, suspended in time for an instant longer, and Skye eventually realizes that May is waiting for her to pull away when she’s ready. So she tips out of the hug, steps back, and she drops her eyes as she and May move towards the door together. May pauses, her hand on the knob, then turns and catches Skye’s eye again.

“You’re ready for this.”

_I know it._

_I believe in you._

_I love you, too._

And Skye hears it for what it still is:

_Goodbye._

Skye just nods, and May turns the knob.

The door opens.

And then May is gone.


End file.
